


Death Is Just A Formaility

by MrsInfinity



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Turned Into a Ghost, Comedy, Drama, Eventual Smut, Multi, Mystery, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-15 04:04:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16055201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsInfinity/pseuds/MrsInfinity
Summary: I, Hermione Jean Granger, age 19(and holding for the last decade) am dead. I know. Shocked the sweet pickles out of me to. Now the afterlife consists of haunting Malfoy manor and not a soul can see me. There are perks though, like seeing Draco daily, and stealing everyone's clothes. It's been a quiet non-existence, but that's all about to change.





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

This Little Afterlife Of Mine

 

 

I, Hermione Jean Granger, age 19(and holding for the last decade) am dead.

I know.

I  _know_.

Shocked the sweet pickles out of me to.

There I was minding my own fudging business in the Hogwarts Library on the last day of eighth-year and bam, splat! A first-year Leviosad an extraordinarily heavy tome a little too hard and tipped an entire bookcase onto my unsuspecting self, and it was lights out for your favorite war heroine. I was profoundly irritated by the events! Survive the bloody war just to be snubbed out by books! The papers were not kind in the least and the last ten years have been a bit of an endless joke on my part. I thought the afterlife would've been a simple affair, what, with my death occurring at Hogwarts and all. You were supposed to be able to haunt the castle! For Merlin's sake, the moaning girl died in the toilets and got to stay! But, no, not my luck, unfortunately. I somehow got the lovely Malfoy Manor as my eternal haunting space.

Yay, me.

Never figured out why it happened either, just learned to accept and adapt.

Anyways, fun fact of my fantastic afterlife existence number one, no one can see me. They can't hear me. They can't feel me. Not one bloody person. I tried, and I'm not ashamed I attempted to possess near every person who came through those pretentious gates and set foot in the Manor. Slytherin, former Death Eaters, questionable females wearing next to nothing, yep tried them all.

So far, nothing.

I've had to find ways to entertain myself along the way, over the years. I quite enjoy one of the few abilities I do have, one that happens to drive the elder Malfoys absolutely crazy. I have the nifty gift of being able to touch clothing, such as rare and expensive dresses and make them reappear in whatever mysterious realm of existence I am stuck in. And because magic is well, magic, they always fit me perfectly. I've grown quite fond of Narcissa's little shrieks of consternation when her carefully crafted couture goes poof.

When Astoria moved in, I'll get to that sleaze-cow soon, I disappeared all of her knickers and watched with glee for two weeks while the insipid snob side eyed her soon to be father-in-law thinking he was to blame.

 

Death has made me a bit of a terror, and I am entirely okay with it.

 

I wish I would've embraced this carefree attitude when I was still alive. Wish I had possessed the ability to shed that damn incessant need to always be the clever one that seemed to plague my breathing years.

Anyways, right, Astoria Greengrass.

 

_I Hate her._

 

SO MUCH.

 

I mean, how stupid could one witch be? She couldn't even manage to charm her clothes a different color, a damn  _first-yea_ r spell mind you. I would know. I watched her try to do it one too many times now, courtesy of me ghost-touching all her clothes that aren't red or gold.

Granger- 331

Greengrass- 0

 

Most of my hatred for her stems from one thing in particular though, and unfortunately it isn't her ineptitude at being a functioning human. It's because she gets to touch my Draco.

Yeah _I know_ , didn't see that one coming either.

You see when I first died and was zapped here, Draco was still on house confinement as punishment for his actions during the war. The first thing I saw when I blinked into this afterlife was him, and his beautiful, haunting eyes. He looked so utterly broken I couldn't bring myself to harbor any ill-begotten feelings for him anymore. It took me longer than I'd care to admit before I got the hang of this mostly ghostly business, and I spent the first two years dutifully following Draco around -seeing his life, witnessing the breakdowns he thought were his alone in the dark confines of his room. I couldn't help myself: I could only leave the manor if I was touching him and him only. I figured I wasn't genuinely intruding since I was obviously his ghost. Somehow he is the reason I remain in this state of not-being, forced to stay in this damn Manor, that I know I complain about often but secretly love. I spend an embarrassing amount of time clinging to his firm, far too muscular to be real, back. My transparent arms wrapped snugly around his neck, my thighs around his waist and my face nuzzled in his throat.

I really wish I could smell him.

 

It's not creepy.

 

Because it's not like the sexy snake can see me. I did feel remorseful about intruding,  _at first_. Especially when Draco started dating and I tagged along. Let's just say I've seen my fair share of the wizarding world's most eligible bachelorettes on their backs singing my Dracos well-deserved praises. Though, the fact I had to touch him, or I'd be painfully jerked back to that god's forsaken manor, did mean I got a real up close and personal look at all their lady bits. As well as Draco in all his unrivaled naked glory. I mean,  _sweet biscuits_ the man was cut like a Greek God and those scars on his chest and that forbidden mark on his arm, mouth flubbing watering.

I wasn't even ashamed of it anymore. Death has also made me a voyeuristic pervert, something I am also ok with. I like watching because it's hot, and I can pretend for a moment it's me Draco is bringing over that sweet cliff of pleasure. I hate watching because I'm jealous it isn't nor can it ever be me. I'm a horrible glutton for punishment.

 

Draco-121

Granger-0

 

He was a busy boy after being released from his house arrest and before Astoria. It's been a hell of a learning experience; I didn't even know humans could bend in such ways! At least then, he wasn't serious about anyone, and I didn't have to share his private moments with the annoying tittering of the airhead heiress he's gone and got himself engaged to. Which brings me slamming into the present and away from reminiscing about the good ole' days.

The engagement party I'm currently floating around is a lavish affair of the who's who of the wizarding world and the ballroom is expertly decorated. Golden chandeliers dripping in glittering crystals, an elven orchestra plays seductively eerie music, the ceilings are covered in silver vines intertwining with emerald roses that fade into a shimmering iridescent fabric that clings to the marbled walls. I wouldn't expect anything less from a Malfoy-Greengrass planned soiree. Astoria and Narcissa were practically the same person when it came to fluffing their reputation of being the best of the best and nothing would get in the way. I loved when parties were thrown here at the Manor, it was the bright shining spot in my otherwise lonely existence.

I decide to head towards the bar area and spot a couple of Draco's old schoolmates, Theo and Blaise, enjoying the spirits of the evening a little too much. I love drunk Slytherins. They are the funniest people; they don't get loud and obnoxious like us Gryffindors tended to do when pissed. No, they play tricks on everyone and gossip like lovestruck teenagers.

"Did you bring it?" Theo asks Blaise, who is tipping a bottle of near-empty bottle of wine to his lips."

"Of course." Blaise smirks and pulls something from his coat pocket. I let myself merge with him, popping my head through his chest to get a proper look. Ghosting had its perks, after all. My eyes grow wide, and a colossal grin spreads across my face when I finally see what he's holding. Mother flubbing Veritaserum. How Blaise got his hands on such a large quantity was a mystery; he makes his way towards the waiters passing around glasses of imported champagne, and I'm far too excited about getting to eavesdrop on all the juicy information that was sure to be pouring out of all the unsuspecting partygoers mouths.

Not even twenty minutes pass and the first fight breaks out, I zoom towards the blur of fists and hexes and find myself face to face with a red-faced Lavender Brown crying about how sorry she was for whatever it is she's feeling guilty about. I look into the tangled mass of bodies swinging at each other and see Cormac Mclaggen and Seamus Finnigan.

"You stay away frahm me woman!"

"She was mine first, and if you knew how to treat her like a bloody woman, maybe she wouldn't seek me out every time your pathetic dick leaves her wanting more."

Ouch, Cormac was really giving it to poor Seamus. He delivers a final blow to the chin of the stumbling Irishman, and it's night night for Seamus. As soon as their fight ended, I hear Astoria shrieking from the balcony above me. I know that high pitched sound intimately, having caused it a few times by causing her wedding dresses to vanish continuously. I have a fabulous collection now and like to lounge around the Manor in them, case in point, I'm wearing dress number four right now. A tight Ivory Lace number that melts on my body like butter and would definitely have me falling down with every step if I were alive. I even sport the cathedral length veil she had picked out.

Being dead also makes me dramatic, evidently.

I float upwards and see Astoria and Draco in the midst of a heated argument. He looks torn, hurt even and she looks guilty as sin. My eyes narrow at the pouting witch and her next words have me flying at her in a not-so-blind rage.

"Yes, well, regardless of my wandering bedroom habits, the contract is still ironclad. There really is no reason to continue dwelling on this one indiscretion. We have a lifetime ahead of us, and I would think you'd rather spend it fucking me as opposed to hating me."

That rotten bitch!

If I can just get my damn hands to corporealize, I can end her stupid existence. I channel all my errant energy into making my hands solid as they keep helplessly sliding through her skinny neck. Huffing in disappointment as I try over and over again, I let out a frustrated scream. I hate being a damn ghost sometimes.

"Ah, but Astoria," Lucius materializes out of nowhere like he's bloody Batman and I leap away from the now trembling brunette, "In the event of an indiscretion before the nuptials, and there is supporting evidence, as well as a confession, then the contract is null in void."

The contract in question pops into existence, and tiny words at the bottom of the ten-foot parchment begin to glow bright red; flames shoot out from the angry words and encase the entire thing in an undramatic sizzle before disappearing into a small puff of smoke.

The smile on Malfoy senior is sinister enough that even as a ghost I get a chill up my non-existent spine.

"Did I mention," he purrs, walking toward Astoria and clicking his cane on the hard floor, for dramatic effect I'm sure, "that the wronged party also receives all business holdings, bonds, trusts, and vaults that would have otherwise been theirs had the marriage moved forward?"

Score one for Malfoy senior, I smart a snarky grin at the crying harlot as she tries to sputter out an apology.

"Don't even bother." Draco says, holding up a hand to stop her needless show of dramatic pleas, "I want you gone, out of my house, and my life. Fuck, just leave the whole damn country, and I won't enforce my right to your and your families finances."

Draco turns to leave, and I make to follow him, casting one last look at the visibly angry Astoria glaring daggers at Draco's back. She is not going to let this go easy; I can see that plain as day and hope they are fully prepared for the bitter woman's revenge.

Ten minutes and a fire whiskey bottle later, Theo and Blaise meet us at the entrance of the fourth floor, which is  _their_  floor. The one designated off-limits to anyone but the Emerald Trio, Theo's not-so-clever name for their little group.

"Well, boy's I'm single again. What joy! What good fortune!" Draco announces dryly, a hand on his chest and the other running through his mussed silky hair. The two undoubtedly responsible for whatever words spilled from Astoria's traitorous lips at least looked somewhat ashamed for whatever drama they caused tonight.

I wouldn't have.

The cow had it coming, treating my Draco like some sort of prize to set on her trophy shelf instead of loving him for the kind, caring, and downright sinfully sexy man that he was.

"We heard. Your mother just walked out to the middle of the ballroom and Sonorused-Get out of my bloody house, the engagement is over. I'm sure the papers are going to love that." Theo confesses, and Draco grimaces immediately.

"Fucking shit. Mother never loses her composure like that." Draco groans.

"Well, it probably had to do with Astoria trying to keep that huge Malfoy Heirloom of a ring on her finger as she stormed out." Blaise offers and Theo and Draco both say, "Ahhh, that would do it."

"What happened exactly?" Theo asks while he settles into a plush recliner against the wall and summons a bottle of liquor from the cart beside him. The amber liquid sloshes in his thick crystal glass, and I wish for a moment I could remember what brandy tastes like.

"I honestly have no idea. One minute we were laughing with Pucey and his date, the next she was telling Adrian how much she loved the way he fucked her before the party." Draco sighs, leans against the wall and lets his heavy head hang forward. "She banshee shrieked when the words came out like she hadn't meant to say it, but the damage was already done. Adrian was fucking grinning like the cat who got the creme and prattling on about how he loves the birthmark on her thigh."

Blaise whistles and takes purchase on the leather couch located in the middle of the room they wandered into; the fireplace roars to life behind him. I see him set his wand down and am instantly impressed with his quick spell work. I know the warmth of the welcoming heat is just what Draco needs and smile at Blaise. His my favorite of Draco's friends.

"What are you going to do? The papers will swarm like the flock of pesky insects they are and I don't think your money's going to get you out of this one. The scandal and notoriety associated will be far more tempting than even your pockets can afford." That's Blaise, and he is no longer my favorite. Making my Draco realize how hopeless the situation is, is not what I call being a good friend. If glares could kill, Blaise would be six feet under right now with the intensity I swing his way.

"I don't know. I told her to leave the country, and I wouldn't stake my claim on her livelihood, and I meant it. I hope she takes the offer, and the heat of the situation with her cheating arse as she flees." Draco pushes off the wall and takes a full glass of brandy from Theo's proffered hand on his way over to Blaise. He throws the whole drink back and like a scene from a bad movie smashes the glass into the flickering flames of the fireplace. Draco sinks into a leather cushion and Theo levitates a new glass of liquor towards him. He plucks it from the air, and this time, sips at the contents. I settle into his lap and wrap my arms around his stiff neck, hoping the comfort somehow breaks through and helps ease his broken heart. Astoria did not deserve this man, not even for a minute.

"I have a villa in Tuscany, it's hidden with a Fidelius charm so you won't have to worry about anyone from the media, or from the Greengrass camp, finding you. You should go there for a little while, at least until the news dies down some." I know Theo means well, and his heart is in the right place, but that plan majorly blows. For entirely selfish reasons and I don't care how that makes me look. A vacation is no fun for a ghost who has to touch the vacationing party to even go. Sure, it works for a few days but inevitably Draco always manages to disconnect from me in someway and then it's the boring old Manor until he returns. If I can just be one of those spirits who could touch things, I know I can help him get over that trashy witch of an ex. I was a virgin when I died, yes, but I've learned  _a lot_ of things over the last ten years peeking in on Draco's bedroom antics and have every confidence I can rock his world and make him forget all about Astoria I'm an ungrateful cow Greengrass.

 

"I think you're right."

 

Double darn, I knew he was going to say that.


	2. Mother Flubbing Impossible

**Chapter Two**

**Mother Flubbing Impossible**

 

 

So, when I first died, I spent most of my time being confused, irritated, and downright angry all the time.

 

It wasn't fun for your friendly neighborhood Gryffindor.

 

There were tantrums worthy of a three-year-old having their candy stolen, attempts at ghosticide (it's a thing, I think) and numerous screaming matches with every diety I could think of.

 

It's understandable though considering I'd  _barely_  lived life up to that point, and because it took a while to acclimate myself to my new afterlife I was doubly frustrated. After all, everything was far different then I had expected. I discovered immediately I was unlike any ghost to ever exist; if my research was to be trusted, and yes, death had undoubtedly changed a lot about me. It didn't hinder my ability to research and the Malfoy Library is an infinite source of information.

 

A few examples of said differences?

 

I can't talk to other ghosts; I don't elicit a chill when I'm among the living, or when I touch them. I can leave my haunt as long as I am attached to Draco. My nifty ability to keep myself in fashion through thievery.

The list detailing the differences between me and the others is extensive, so I was flying blind in the beginning. I think my ever so  _slight_  obsession with Draco began because he was the only one who seemed as lost as I was. So I'm fully aware it's a wee bit unorthodox to be as hung up on the blond Adonis as I am, but I'm okay with it.

 

_I mean_ ,  _who's going to know right?_

 

I haven't even seen Harry, Ron, Ginny, or anyone I knew, since my death. Draco doesn't exactly associate with any of them. I did catch a glimpse of Neville, once, during a charity Gala at the Ministry a few years ago that one of Draco's former flames dragged him too. It was brief though, and to be honest I'm not a hundred percent certain it was him. A rather pissed Theo bumped into Draco, knocking him to the floor, and because I was paying attention to the maybe Neville I lost my hold on him and was sucked back to the Manor. Theo and Blaise more than make up for the missed friendship with my boys though, even if they aren't exactly aware they're my best friends. They made those first few years of doom and gloom survivable for Draco, and they helped more than they know with me by being that constant source of unbridled joy and laughter. I don't see how they can maintain the optimism, but if you could bottle their exuberance, you would make a friggin fortune.

 

"Now the Villa is located directly behind a popular tourist attraction, and with it being October, Tuscany is ripe with tourists so just watch where you apparate. Or, better yet, don't be a lazy sod and just walk everywhere." Theo's warm voice floats up the stairs, and I remember why he isn't my BFF right now. Draco is leaving tomorrow for Merlin knows how long and I am a bit sullen about it.

 

"I'll survive." Draco says dryly.

 

He doesn't seem overly enthused about the impending trip, but that could just be him being sour about Astoria still. The breakup was two days ago, and the harlot already managed to spin the story to benefit her solely; claiming she strayed because of being mistreated and ignored. She calls Draco a cold, calculating bastard who strung her along and pushed her away in some elaborate plan to obtain the Greengrass holdings, in the articles circulating and Lucius and Narcissa have been on damage control since. At least three journalists have lost their jobs and maybe one or two, their head.

 

They also think this flubbing Tuscany retreat is a  _splendid_  idea.

 

"Is the area mainly muggle?" Blaise asks, pouring a generous amount of firewhiskey into a glass. I've followed the boys into their section of the Manor and all three congregate near a liqueur cart, as per usual.

 

"Mostly, though there is a huge antique fair the second week of October and that can attract a few of the Wizarding communities more obscure collectors. Sometimes an Unspeakable will come through and take a look around. We spent most of the war hiding out there. It's fairly cut off from magic." Theo answers, he follows Blaise's example and pours a full glass of the amber liquid.

 

"I'm okay with that. I need a break from everything." I grimace at the break in Draco's voice when he says everything, and brush my fingers over his arm. Maybe he needs this more than I think. I sigh, hang my hand in defeat and retreat to what has become "my" room. In reality, it's a forgotten about closet in Draco's bedroom, its stuffed full of everything I have ghost-touched over the recent years. There are also countless pairs of expensive heels, and fancy hats strolled across the floor outside of here, not that Draco knows his room is home to my chaotic mess since he can't see it.

 

This small space of refuge is almost my favorite place in my little world, the first being Draco's bed and of that fact, I am not remotely ashamed. Not even a little bit. He sleeps near naked, so the view is spectacular and worthy of the top spot.

 

I'm not sure how long I stay in my bubble, wallowing, but when I finally emerge the sky outside is kissed with darkness and the stars shine bright through the uncovered window in the room. I hear a small rustle of paper and turn to see Draco at his writing desk, hunched over with his right hand moving furiously. The letter he is pushing his quill into with such ferocity I'm positive the poor thing will snap at any second, says Lord Anthony Greengrass at the top, Astoria's father, and the colorful language throughout would warm my cheeks if I were of the living.

 

From what I can make out, Draco is telling the sorry biscuit that his youngest daughter is of the legs wide open variety and Draco refuses to reconcile with the little trollop. He reemphasized that he won't be pursuing the financial opportunities allotted him, due to Astorias' indiscretion, if the witch would relocate to another country and scribbles a few more sentences about his regrets and frustration over the situation and signs it with his usual flourish. He walks to the window, unlatches it, then pushes it open and whistles sharply. The flutter of wings answer back a few moments later, and Orion, a beautiful and sleek ebony owl Draco was gifted by Andromeda a few years back, arrives to take the proffered letter from Draco's hand. With a heavy sigh, Draco closes the window and heads to his large four poster bed, where he flops on to the silver silk sheets and spreads his long limbs out before exhaling loudly.

 

I decide to not intrude on him tonight; he should have this time alone to break down, and I head downstairs to see what the other Malfoys are up to. Last time I saw them, Narcissa was plotting her revenge against Lucius. You see, last week I was a tad bored and may have incited a bit of a war between the husband and wife duo.

 

Did you know that ghost logic deems canes as accessories, and able to be ghost-touched?

 

Because it does.

 

And that was all it took to get the ball rolling and the two of them to revert to petty teenagers and begin pranking each other.

At the moment, Narcissa's favorite emerald earrings are missing, and I have absolutely nothing to do with it this time. She was whispering with a house elf this morning and staring at her husband when he wasn't paying attention, so I imagine something is planned for today. When I pass by the gardens, I catch an unusually bright flash of purple and curiosity gets the better of me, again, so I abandon my original course of action.

 

I pass through the locked gates, scan the first few rows of roses, and still haven't seen what caused the purple blur. I know it was just inside the gates, it couldn't be that far off. I make for the wall of Wisteria near the back end of the garden when I see the flash again and with glee take off towards it and nearly fall over in shock when my eyes land on the culprit of color.

 

This is so much better than I was expecting.

 

_That's it._

 

I'm convinced Narcissa is a true devious genius because as I stare at four of Lucius prized peacocks, I'm struck by the fact they are precisely the same shade of purple the elder Malfoy turns when upset.

I'm not even sure how she broke through the protective glamour spell Lucius keeps them enchanted with, but bless that clever witch for figuring it out. I can't wait to see the matching set come morning when her husband takes his morning stroll to preen over his beauties.

I hear the gardens gates open and clap my hands together excitedly, maybe Lucius decided to take an evening walk instead! I turn to face the path that leads here from the entrance, and wait for the inevitable fireworks if it is him. Instead, an out-of-it Draco comes stumbling forward towards me. He's shirtless, barefoot, with only a pair of woolen slacks hanging loose on his hips. His silvery hair is sticking up everywhere as if he came straight here from being in bed and didn't give any thought to his appearance. Which is highly unlike Draco, a good look at his eyes as he passes and I see his natural light chroma is glazed over and there is a milk-white sheen to them.

 

_What in the name of Merlin is going on here?_

 

He quickens his clumsy pace, heading towards the back entrance and the edge of the forest surrounding the manor. I frantically try to go solid. I mean, it may work one of these times!

 

It doesn't.

 

I rush after him and catch up just as Draco slings the back gates open. I see the edge of his wand sticking up from the waistband of his pants. Thank flubbing Merlin, at least if he shakes himself out of whatever is going on he has the means to protect himself. My relief is short-lived when I see what is awaiting him outside the forest. There is a dark hooded figure hovering in the air, and when it reaches a bony finger out, I begin to scream Draco's name endlessly. Foolishly hoping I can break through this ghostly prison and able to warn him, I concentrate all my might into saying his name.

He doesn't hear me of course and blindly walks closer towards whatever it is that beckons him near. I scream louder when I figure out it's a Dementor. How one managed to get on the property, and how it was controlling Draco was beyond me, but I knew if I didn't figure out something quick Draco was most likely going to die.

 

If he receives the kiss he will never become a ghost, and my stupid secret wish of him joining me after he dies will never have a chance of coming true. I rush forward, passing through Draco who is scarily close to the looming threat, and zoom towards the Dementor. I don't know what I'm going to do precisely, but I'm going try..something. As I near the creature, it begins to move forward, quicker than I anticipate because somehow it's upon me in an instant.

 

Draco is abruptly towering behind me, and my eyes widen when the Dementor reaches through my chest. But instead of gripping onto Draco's shoulder and pulling him forward for the kiss, like I'm anticipating, I feel the bone-chilling icy grip grab hold to something inside of me and tug furiously until I hear something pop.

 

The whisper of a haunting scream in the wind, as it whips the misty material of the Dementors cloak, joins my fearful cries when in spite of being terrified of what is happening, I glance up. Only to be meet with the horrid sight of that terrible gapping mouth as it begins sucking some sort of shimmering gold essence from within me. Its hollow eyes lock on mine. I feel erratic energy start to flow from inside as incomplete flashes of the worst memories I keep buried deep inside my subconsiouse flash in my head. Somewhere in the haze of burning agony and the miserable trip down my dark and twisty memory lane, I know this shouldn't be happening.

 

_I'm already dead._

 

I don't have anything for this thing to take and somehow it was killing me for a  _second_  time. I feel laughably weak; my ordinarily transparent body is flickering furiously in and out of whatever plane of existence I occupy. I know at any second I will cease to be and find I'm incredibly irate about this whole freaking situation. My luck in this world is beyond bent, and I wonder who I was in a previous life to garner such misfortune.

 

A sharp inhale of breath and a surprised " _what the fuck?_ " from Draco let me know he is back to normal. Whatever spell had hold of him was no more, and I suppose that is enough for me. I close my eyes as the final memory of when I died begins to play, fear washes over me, but I'm not afraid of not existing. No, I'm fearful of missing out on seeing Draco truly happy. My last thought before the bleak nothingness of the kiss envelops me is if that makes me a creepy stalker after all.

 

I awake with a sudden rush of liquid heat coursing through every part of my body and gasp when I feel that same tug in my chest as before, only this time it's not the cold touch of a dementor, its a warm caress of pure happiness. This burning is pleasant, and I feel as though I was dipped in an orgasm and given the worlds most decadent chocolate to drown myself in.

 

"Granger?"

 

The joy I'm feeling comes to a screeching halt. My eyes pop open, and I see a disheveled Draco with his wand trained on me. The remnants of a Patronus, I didn't even know he could conjure one, surrounds me in a vibrant blue mist, lingers for a few moments before it evaporates.

 

_Surely_  I didn't hear...

 

"Granger?" I see his lips move, but that's not possib-

 

"Hermione?" He takes a step towards me; his wand still held high and I know I'm not dreaming.

 

Mother flubbing impossible!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews and fav/follows. I appreciate it more than you could possibly know! I really hope everyone enjoys this update and yay for actually sticking to an update schedule!


	3. Well, that's new.

Is this actually happening?

_Finally?_

Did that blessed soul-sucking angel of a dementor somehow fix my wonky ghost parts?

I hold my hands up in front of me for inspection and see I am a tad more vivid than before and far less transparent. I try to pick a stick up from the ground and am disappointed to see my fingers slip through as usual.

Well, it's not like a ghost can usually touch things after all, so maybe this didn't mean anything.

"What the fuck is going on here? What the fuck am I doing out here?" Draco takes another step towards me; his wand lowers only an inch, "Why the fuck was there a dementor out here? Why the fuck are you out here?"

Sweet pickles, he can see me.

Right.

Think of something witty Granger, something to impress him despite the current situation.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!" Draco, obviously frustrated, screams when I don't say anything for a few tense minutes.

"Seriously, you curse far too much." I chide.

Damn.

Super clever Hermione.

My chest is still a little tender oddly, and my energy isn't quite where it usually is, but it's still taking an incredible amount of restraint not to jump and scream in excitement right now. I also wish I was wearing something more sensible than a-

"What the fuck are you wearing?" His voice climbs three octaves, and his eyes widen even more in confusion and probably shock.

Drat.

He noticed that, did he?

"Um, your old Quidditch Jersey," I say quietly. It's a favorite of mine when I go to my "bedroom" to pout. It's not like I was thinking, "Hey! Today's going to be the day Draco finally sees you so wear a ratty shirt that shows him your full crazy right up front!" when I went wandering in the garden earlier.

"I'm fully aware this is a little...um... shocking, but you can lower your wand. I'm already dead, so it's not like it will do you any good." He doesn't lower it. He actually grips the wand tighter and sets his pretty mouth in a tight-lipped line; I hate when he does that. Makes him look more like his father than usual.

"So was Voldemort and look how that turned out." He grits out.

"Fair point," He was right after all, "But I'm Hermione Granger, not Voldemort and I promise I am of no threat." Unless you count stalking, peeping, obsessing, and stealing as a threat that is. He doesn't need to know all that though.

_Right now._

"I'm also fairly certain I just saved your life so a little gratitude would be nice, " I hold my head high and stare him down. Suddenly unamused by his hostility I add haughtily, "You're welcome, by the way."

"Are you fucking serious? Like Hell will I be thanki-"

Draco is cut off by the screams of a frantic Narcissa running through the gardens. A panic I've not seen since the end of the war and Draco was arrested at the Battle of Hogwarts, floods her pale face. Lucius trails behind her, scowling at his stricken wife and I'm pretty sure I hear the words, purple, and war being muttered from his lips. He seems more concerned for the bewitched peacocks then the possible attempt on his only sons' life.

"Draco! My son! Are you alright?" She reaches him in a matter of seconds and throws her worried arms around him, "Linty came running into the sitting room in such a fright! She saw you stumbling in the gardens and said that there was something out in the forest that shouldn't be there!"

Draco narrows his eyes at me before finally letting his arm drop, and he tucks the wand back into his waistband. He assures his mother he's okay and tells her he isn't quite sure what's happened.

"Well?" Draco quirks an eyebrow at me expectantly, " Care to explain?"

"Explain what? We have less of an idea as to what occurred than you do son." Lucius answers, arriving shortly after his distraught wife. I know Draco meant me, and take an educated guess that maybe I wasn't as fixed as I had hoped. I decide to test my theory out.

"Lucius Malfoy is an arrogant, pompous, spinely excuse of a wizard who isn't fit to lick the mud from Harry Potters boots." I bellow dramatically.

The expression on Draco's face is priceless, and he looks even more bewildered when my theory is proven right, and Lucius doesn't react at all. Suspicion clouds his eyes, and I decide to at least help him a little bit with some of the madness.

"Thirty or so minutes ago, depending on how long I was out for, you came stumbling out of the gates and heading towards the forest. You looked like you were in a trance, flailing all over the place like a fish with its head cut off." I watch in amusement as Draco tries to talk to his parents and listen to me without reacting, "Super attractive by the way."

"Anyways," I continue," Trance you decided it was a grand idea to head on out here and have a makeout session with the lovely Dementor, whom I somehow distracted, allowing you the time to snap out of your whatever it was. Up till today, I haven't been able to be seen by anyone, or anything, and it seems like you are the only one who can so far. I've been somewhat stuck to this Manor, and you, since I died, and no, I don't know why either." It's a lot to unload. I know. But there was no simple way to explain all this. I'm sure when he learns the extent of my presence here it's just going to get more complicated.

If I wasn't already dead, I'm pretty sure the look in Draco's eyes could've stopped my heart. Not pleased was putting it lightly; he looked even more restless and suspicious than before. I see his hand inch lower towards his wand and roll my eyes.

Not this again.

"Right, so you're welcome. Now I'm just going to head inside and leave you to all this." I gesture to his parents and the forest, and then calmy head back towards the Manor. I'm not sure what the Dementor did, or the extent of what's changed, but I was darn sure going to find out before being interrogated by Draco. I also needed to change into something a little more fetching than this jersey.

For reasons.

I decide maybe I shouldn't head to my space in his room, just in case he's not too far behind me, and choose the comfort of the Library instead. I pass a few chatty paintings along the way, all of which already know about what occurred outside and have all settled on the theory that a Greengrass must be behind the ordeal. I agree, but unfortunately I can't tell them that because it seems they still can't see me either. It would be my luck that only Draco was able to see me. It also would be another mark in the "Draco has something to do with my predicament" category. I don't think it was done on purpose, just that it has to have something to do with him and me in general.

I arrive at the Library and decide maybe this isn't the best choice of hiding places after all. Draco didn't know much about me, but I'd bet he was intelligent enough to figure out this would be one of the first places I retreated to. Maybe the drawing room? I hate that place for good reason but he would also know the memories associated with that place and would most likely assume I steered clear of there. Mind made up, I turn from the doors and head back down the hall of chatty artwork.

I'm barely down the hall before I hear Lucius and Narcissa approaching voices and panic. Draco could be with them, and I'm not ready for that yet. I phase through the first door I see and find myself in one of the many forgotten storage rooms. Cobwebs span the entirety of the cramped space, and there are boxes upon boxes of various glassware, books, and potion supplies. Not exactly the most fabulous area for harboring ingredients that could make the whole house go boom. I ponder my situation and come to the conclusion that hiding out in what was essentially the size of the broom closets at Hogwarts, was not in the Gryffindor nature of things. I emerge just as Lucius and Narcissa pass, no Draco in tow, and head back to the Library.

Let him find me, at least I'd be somewhere that didn't scream "I'm a coward" and besides I can pass through the walls or the floor if need be.

If he decides to be a hostile snake that is.

"You are the most predictable witch on the bloody planet. The Library, Granger? Death hasn't changed your swottiness I see."

It's been three hours since the incident in the gardens, and I'm shocked it took him this long to seek me out. I look up from the chair I'm occupying and see he has showered and changed into a pair of sharp black slacks and a fitted white button-down shirt. A little formal for twelve at night and interviewing little ole me.

"It's not like I can read them Malfoy, it's just the least pretentious room in the whole Manor. I also haven't seen you here once in the ten years I've been stuck to this place. So I figured it might be safe." I sigh, resigned to the fact this unpleasant conversation has to happen.

What I said was also a lie, not that he hadn't been in here, but that I thought it was safe from his prying. In the last three hours, I determined I wasn't that different at all. Draco could see me, and he could hear me; I was somewhat less transparent; that was it. I suppose it is somewhat of a win, depending on how Draco is going to behave.

"Yes, about that being stuck here matter. What do you mean by that?"

"Figure out what happened out there?" I ignore his question and ask my own. He was far calmer than I expected and I didn't see his wand anywhere on him. I knew where to look to because I've seen every one of his hiding spots before. He either found a new place conveniently or didn't view me as a threat anymore; which isn't what I was expecting. There must be a reason. Like he knew for sure, I had nothing to do with the Dementor attack.

"Yes," Draco says simply.

"And?" I arch a brow, standing up and walking towards him. I changed into a white and yellow sundress I'd taken from one of Draco's one-nighters five years ago. When I noticed the clock was entering the two-hour zone, I figured it was safe to make a run for my room and grabbed the first cute thing I could find.

He steps forward himself, shrugging his shoulders before smirking, "I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So an earlier than normal update because I am not a fan of the long cliff-hanger wait! This is still a tiny one, but a bit better, I hope. I'm absolutely in love with all the lovely reviews and can't thank you all enough for the support! This was one of those stories I wasn't sure people would like because Hermione is "differnt." So I am beyond happy that people like it even a little bit. Next update will be in a couple of weeks. (October 10th)

**Author's Note:**

> It's been awhile, and as much as I wished I was able to come out with a new chapter for the stories I had started, I couldnt get the muse going for them. I really hope you all enjoy this new story, I have a couple chapters ready and will be aiming for every three week updates. All mistakes are my own, as I'm currently winging it without a beta or alpha, but I hope it's up to snuff. If you find any grammatical issues then please feel free to shoot me a pm.


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